Firsts: Drift and Perceptor
by Mirage Shinkiro
Summary: IDW. Drift finds that the trust he places in his new friend is returned. More than that, he realizes Perceptor’s and his feelings for each other are beyond that of simple friendship.


_Title: Firsts: Drift and Perceptor _  
_Author:_ Mirage Shinkiro

_Rating:_ T  
_Warnings:_ mech/mech kissing, a.k.a. intimacy between androgynous and nonsexually reproducing but male-"pronoun'd" 'bots.

_Disclaimer:_ Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.

_Summary:_ IDW. Drift finds that the trust he places in his new friend is returned. More than that, he realizes Perceptor's and his feelings for each other are beyond that of simple friendship.

_A/N, explanation:_ This is another in a series of one shots about various couples, all of them surrounding a first kiss. **Set during the time the Wreckers are traveling through space,** before the incident with the swarm. **However, it's inspired by a scene from AHM 6,** during the swarm incident, so please don't confuse my story with what would be later canon events.

For Lune Nightingale.

* * *

_**Firsts: Drift and Percy**_

Slinking through the ruins of a small planet dubbed by Autobot scientists as Zeta 451, Drift frowned and drew his short swords. He hated to see that the Cybertronian war had reached so far, destroying tiny worlds with civilizations that had barely been space-bound, but the evidence surrounded him: toppled skyscrapers filled what had once been streets, leaving twisted steel beams to jut into the night sky, and fires raged in the wreckage, replacing broken neon signs and street lamps. Cold wind whistled through cluttered alleyways and whipped over his armor, and he had to watch his footing as much as his surroundings so he didn't trip on shattered bricks. More disturbing, though, was that he had to avoid the burnt-out bodies of both Autobots and Decepticons, as well as the corpses of the planet's native organic race.

It seemed no one had survived here.

However, it was survivors the Wreckers were here to rescue: a team led by Powerglide. No one had heard from the team in half a vorn when they'd suddenly sent an update detailing a harrowing experience, and then only a few orns later, a request for help from their new position on Zeta 451. And so it was that Drift found himself scouting the area closest to their makeshift base, while Blurr sped through the city, sizing up the situation. Springer flew over the city, gathering intel, while the others secured their 'base.' An Autobot locator beacon had been detected in the area Drift was searching, but knowing the 'Cons could have stolen it for a trap, the group was moving with caution. A caution that included the sniper stationed on the base's parapets.

Although he had faith in his own skills, Drift drew comfort from knowing that Perceptor, with his chilling accuracy, was the mech covering him. Although they'd never spoken of it, they both automatically protected one another. Drift considered it something like a silent pact between himself and Perceptor that stemmed from Drift's having saved Perceptor from death when he'd been shot and left behind.

To Drift, Perceptor was a life meant to be saved, a mech not to be abandoned, and although Drift expected and required nothing in return, Perceptor believed he had a debt to repay. Perhaps more than that, it seemed that to Perceptor, Drift was the embodiment of a promise made action: the manifestation of a will to change. A will they both shared.

And so Drift slunk through the wreckage, knowing without checking that Perceptor was the sniper hidden in the parapets, waiting with an ex-scientist's keen precision to kill any 'Con who dared to threaten Drift's life.

Drift stepped over a fallen street light and peered into the wreckage of yet another destroyed skyscraper. He'd already drawn his short swords, but when a voice unexpectedly spoke, he dropped into a crouch.

"Identify yourself."

The voice held a certain pride to it, but more to the point, it matched the vocal recording Special Ops had forwarded to the Wreckers. Barring a 'Con trap, the mech who had spoken had been Powerglide.

"I'm Drift of the Wreckers. I'm here to answer the call for help."

"I don't know a Drift." A mech emerged from the building's shadows, a rifle in hand. The cone-shaped head and bent wings immediately matched the voice to the body.

Drift stood and bowed faintly. "New recruit, even though I'm not new to the war. Kup invited me to join."

Powerglide was staring at his shoulders, where Autobot symbols were displayed. "I see."

From the shadows, more mechs approached. Drift accessed his data files on Powerglide's team and recognized Beachcomber, Seaspray, Brawn, and Huffer. None of them were in good condition, sporting gashes and leaking fluids, and also looking clearly under-fueled and exhausted. Drift frowned and initiated his comm. link, making sure to speak aloud so the wary team could hear the conversation. "Drift to Kup. Team found."

Kup's no-nonsense voice replied over the connection. ::Understood. Injuries?::

"All of them," he replied. "But they can travel."

::Bring 'em in. Kup out.::

Drift closed the connection. "We'll have a sniper covering us, and I'm sure Kup's ordering Springer and Blurr to our aid."

"Then let's move." Powerglide gestured for his team to follow, and they set out for the makeshift base.

"What can we expect in terms of 'Con resistance?" Drift asked quietly as they wove their way round the wreckage.

Powerglide frowned, indicating to his team that they should fan out, checking alleys as they moved forward. "In a word: the Pit. I'm not sure how safe we are or aren't at the moment, though. A 'Con team swept through here a few breems ago. I'm guessing they'll be back soon."

Drift nodded and took the rear guard position, watching both his surroundings and Powerglide's team. The wounded flier seemed jumpy, and Drift suspected he was both shell-shocked and irritated about being unable to fly.

Stopping abruptly, Powerglide turned to face him. "I realize it shouldn't be bothering me at a time like this, but something about you seems vaguely familiar. Could I have met you before?"

It was the question that made Drift the most uncomfortable. However, his proximity alarm blared across his HUD as he realized someone was sneaking up behind him. Drift watched the horror bloom across Powerglide's face and knew with utter certainty that the sudden presence at his back was not a fellow Autobot. His systems tingled in warning, telling him to act, to defend himself, but from the parapet, he saw a blue flash as Perceptor focused his rifle's scope and fired. A deadly beam of particle energy sliced through the night. Knowing his new friend would never miss, Drift causally tilted his head to the side, protecting his cheek from getting singed as the energy raced past him, and closed his left optic, protecting his sensors from damage. Behind him, the approaching 'Con exploded, and the impact of the blast washed over his armor like a brutal caress. Shards of super-heated metal flew past his shoulders and littered the ground.

Powerglide shrieked and jumped backward. "What the slag?" He whirled around and glanced upward.

Drift didn't bother to even look at the wreckage. Perceptor wouldn't miss, and his own sensors would have warned him if any danger remained. He resumed his previous posture, unconcerned with the near-miss. Such occurrences had happened before and would certainly happen again, and Drift knew he'd always trust Perceptor with his life.

"Perceptor?" Powerglide asked, turning back to face Drift. "What the frag happened to him? He never really fought, and although he always had stunning accuracy, I'd never have imagined him as a sniper!"

"Maybe not." Drift found himself smiling. "But no one can nearly get his spark shot out of his chest and remain unchanged."

Powerglide gaped at him momentarily, then shook his head. "I have a bad feeling that a lot of things have changed since my team and I left on our mission so long ago."

Drift merely nodded, knowing that Powerglide's assumption was correct.

oOoOo

After refueling and repairs, Powerglide's team took second watch, freeing the Wreckers to plot, rest, and refuel. They had to take out the rest of the 'Cons before leaving the shattered little planet. Knowing Kup and Springer would be deep into discussion about their plans, Drift grabbed two cubes of energon and wandered through their temporary base, making sure not to distract Powerglide's team, who were understandably leery of him now that they knew he'd once been a Decepticon. In fact, he headed to the quietest, most secluded place in the building—its basement—because he knew the one mech he wanted most to see would be there.

Sure enough, when he slid down the staircase, which was too small for mech feet, he found Perceptor sitting in the far corner, surrounded by wooden crates. A few fluorescent lights flickered overhead, the ceiling barely tall enough to accommodate their frames. Drift gave him his patented half-smile, and Perceptor returned it. Secretly touched that Perceptor was willing to give him even the tiniest of smiles, Drift crossed the concrete floor, pushed the tiny crates aside, and then sat by his friend.

"You need to refuel," he said, handing Perceptor a cube.

"My thanks." Perceptor accepted the cube and sipped it silently, his gaze trained on the far wall and his posture stiff.

Drift drank his as well, comfortable with either talking or silence. When it came to his friend, he would accept anything he had to offer. In the quiet, he listened to the soft, rhythmic _plink_ of dripping water from one dark corner.

"My silence doesn't bother you." Perceptor glanced at him. It wasn't a question.

"Of course not." Drift dared to reach out and squeeze his forearm briefly. At times, when they sat together refueling or resting, Drift would meet Perceptor's gaze and wonder, if only for a moment, if some subtle attraction existed between them. The appeal of such an idea was enough for him to override his hesitancy to engage in casual touch. "You seem to prefer silence to social chatter, and I respect that."

Perceptor nodded. "You look past others' veneers."

"I didn't always." Drift snorted. "As Deadlock, I was easily impressed with shows of strength and brutal leadership. For the longest time, I bought Decepticon propaganda and didn't think for myself. All I cared about was military prowess. I can only be grateful that I was given the chance to reconsider."

Tilting his head faintly, Perceptor watched him closely. "And why, may I ask, does that make you seek my company? For you surely do."

"You're highly intelligent," Drift replied, giving him the smile he realized he reserved just for him: one less ironic or smug and more genuine. "And you also look past the surface. I feel certain you judge me by my present actions and not my past or my former reputation."

Perceptor nodded again. "You came back for me when no one else bothered. From the beginning, I had reason to believe your motives were honest." He looked away, his gaze returning to the darkness. "Give the others time. While it's true some Autobots will never be able to forgive you, that is an issue within themselves, not you. Most others will come to see that you have changed in more than body."

"I will." Drift wanted to touch him again. A simple touch to the forearm would do, but he wasn't sure why he felt so driven to do it. Perhaps it was Perceptor's calmness around him: no suspicion, no distrust. Just steady, calm friendship. He coveted the time they spent together. He'd had no friends to speak of in his former life, and those who had mentored him on his path to redemption were mechs too secretive and well-hidden to ever visit him. Having found this rare thing called 'friendship,' he didn't wish to let it go. Not ever, if Perceptor felt the same.

With those thoughts, an odd tingling whisked through his circuits, and he shivered faintly, disturbed by what the feeling probably meant.

Perceptor glanced back at him. "It is unlike you to be easily chilled."

"It was a strange sensation." Drift grinned, surprising himself with how open he could be with his friend. He might not be willing to burden Perceptor with his particular line of thought, but he wouldn't brush off his comment, either.

"Perhaps we should return to the upper levels, then." Perceptor subspaced his empty cube and stood.

Drift stood as well and indulged himself by gently grasping Perceptor's elbow. "I'm fine. Really. If you don't want to go back upstairs, we can stay here."

Meeting his gaze, Perceptor stared at him intently. "You are attempting to take care of me?"

"You take care of me." Drift released his arm and kept his tone light. "I'm beginning to lose count of the number of 'Cons you've taken out for me, some of them with their blasters raised halfway to my spark."

"It's my duty and my debt." Perceptor stared past his shoulder, his posture going more rigid than before.

Drift leaned into his line of sight. "It's more than that. We're friends, and I'm glad of it. I like having you watch my back."

Perceptor refocused on him and gave him the smallest of smiles. "You trust me with your life." It was an observation.

"Why wouldn't I?" Drift knew perfectly well that although the Autobots were leery of him, they wouldn't betray him. "You trust me with yours." To him, this was the more amazing concept.

Stepping forward, Perceptor reached up, his fingertips hovering just shy of Drift's cheek. "You already endangered yourself once to save me. I have no reason to _not_ trust you." He dropped his hand quickly and turned away. "Some things are much clearer now than before."

Drift watched the ex-scientist's retreating back, realizing that the Perceptor he knew and the one he'd first met weren't the same. This Perceptor was a mech of few words, only speaking when directly asked a question or when having something profound to impart. He wondered briefly what Perceptor had been like before. A talkative 'bot, perhaps? In the short time he'd observed him prior to his injury, Drift had immediately seen that Perceptor was astonishingly inquisitive and well-informed.

It seemed wrong, suddenly, that no one would reach out to him. Drift sprinted forward, laying a hand gently on his shoulder and turning him around. "How much are you willing to trust me?"

Staring at him, Perceptor remained silent for several long kliks. "I believe in you," he finally said, his voice quiet. "Your actions prove your words. You don't just spout pretty rhetoric. You live what you believe. I couldn't care less that you were a Decepticon."

The simple acceptance in those words affected Drift in a way he had never imagined. He realized he wanted his friend at his side, always: watching his back, protecting him just as Drift would protect Perceptor. He could imagine a lifetime of listening to the cultured voice speak, and he hoped that someday Perceptor would talk once again of theories and facts beyond the reach of ordinary mechs. Drift wasn't threatened by that imposing intelligence but rather found it fascinating. What was more, he was now sure his interest in Perceptor wasn't merely friendly.

"In that case," Drift whispered, "trust me with one thing more." He reached up, grasping Perceptor's chin with his fingers, and tilted up his face. Leaning forward, he pulled Perceptor's mouth to his, pressing a simple kiss upon his lips. Pulling back, he paused, giving his friend time to process the action and its implication. When Perceptor reached up and grasped his upper arms, Drift smiled and leaned back in, mouthing his lips gently, tasting them, and sucking his bottom lip.

Perceptor gasped, the rigidness bleeding from his posture, and Drift encircled his waist with one arm, hugging him close. He transferred his other hand to the back of Perceptor's helm, capturing his head and holding him still as he slipped his glossa into his mouth. Perceptor moaned faintly as Drift drew him into a deep kiss, their glossae meeting and twining, and when Perceptor ran his arms behind his neck, Drift knew the subtle attraction between them had not been his imagination.

Keeping his arm around Perceptor's waist, Drift lowered him to the floor right there, unconcerned with who might find them. All that mattered to him was that they were, temporarily at least, safe. He settled between Perceptor's legs and kissed down the slope of his neck. Perceptor tilted back his head, exposing his throat, and clung to him, moaning, as Drift nibbled at one cable. Perceptor shuddered violently.

Drift pulled back. "Are you all right?" Given all that Perceptor had suffered, he wanted to make sure.

"I am quite well." Perceptor smiled faintly. "Better than fine, really."

Pressing a kiss against the end of his nose, Drift returned the smile. "Do you trust me?" he asked again.

"Implicitly." Perceptor watched him with a look of quiet adoration.

Drift nodded, touched in a way he couldn't voice. "I will protect you." He wondered if Perceptor knew the significance behind the promise—a belief he'd culled from the ones who had reformed him.

"I will protect you, also." Perceptor reached up and ran a fingertip down Drift's cheek seam. "Such a thing must go both ways."

He understood.

Drift nodded, and although the promise was one meant to be levied by the stronger mech, he knew this was what he'd wanted: something equal. Something pure. They had opposite strengths, but together they could be perfect. "I accept," he whispered. "I hope my abruptness doesn't bother you."

"I haven't the time to waste on trivial quests." Perceptor grabbed his chin, pulling him downward. "A million stellar cycles could be an orn, or an orn a million stellar cycles. But for a life wasted, it wouldn't mean anything." He pressed their lips together again.

Drift returned the kiss, gently yet passionately, and dared to believe that he'd found someone who would live in the moment with him and appreciate and defend life as he did.

He couldn't ask for anything more.

* * *

_Postscript: Thank you to pl2363 for beta reading and for letting me pick her brain relentlessly on the IDW continuity. Also, thank you to Lune Nightgale for getting "Spotlight: Drift" to me to read. (You guys won. I'm gonna read AHM now.)_

_I'm stopping this series at 20 stories max, so please get in any final requests now. I don't promise my muse will cooperate, but I've been doing my best._

_Thank you to everyone who's been reading, reviewing, and faving my "Firsts" stories. I greatly appreciate all the support. Here's the list thus far:_

_"Firsts: Prowl and Sideswipe"—posted  
"Firsts: Wheeljack and Ratchet"—posted  
"Firsts: Prowl and Jazz"—posted  
"Firsts: Hot Rod and Sunstreaker"—posted  
"Firsts: Mirage and Jazz"—posted  
"Firsts: Optimus and Elita"—posted  
"Firsts: Skyfire and Perceptor"—posted  
"Firsts: Thundercracker and Skywarp"—posted  
"Firsts: Ratchet and Sideswipe"—posted  
"Firsts: Scavenger and Fireflight"—posted (yeah, you read that right)  
"Firsts: Drift and Perceptor"—here  
"Firsts: Prowl and Bluestreak"—forthcoming  
"Firsts: Starscream and Megatron"—forthcoming _


End file.
